if you can't have time, steal it
by conventionalfallacy
Summary: Elena doesn't stay behind her desk, but then again neither does Damon and this shouldn't really be happening (at all, but especially at school). But it doesn't really count as "sex" and even if it does no one finds out. That's all that really counts. AU.


_Well this is the first time I've ever tried to write dry sex. Not sure how I did. This may be something I have to revisit._

_Delena, AU. Because of Kelsey powerlesbian._

* * *

**if you can't have time, steal it**

It's really annoying, the way he stands up there and eyefucks her.

She's not entirely certain how everyone else doesn't notice, because it's definitely making an impression on her. He's just standing at the front of the class, lecturing about poetry like nothing's going on. The dark jeans and equally dark shirt he wears cling to him sinfully well, and his voice runs over the whole class like honey. Velvet and sweet and sticky, it caresses her until she completely loses track of what he's actually _saying_, she just knows she likes it.

By the virtue of some strange mercy, neither Bonnie nor Caroline seems to have noticed anything's going on. To her left, Caroline's alternating between "subtly" texting Tyler Lockwood and equally sneakily (read: with all the stealth of a bull elephant) trying to make plans for the night. She wants to have a girls' night but with her boyfriend, and this really shouldn't have the power to surprise Elena anymore. She knows Caroline and Tyler are attached at the lips, and she knows Tyler just came back from a trip with a gorgeous hockey player that he definitely _didn't_ leave with. That's really says all that needs to be said. Which doesn't mean that Elena's into the idea of sitting through a couple sleepover at the Forbes'. On her other side, Bonnie's actually paying attention. Relatively speaking. Yes, she's still texting a bit, and exchanging notes with Caroline over Elena's desk, but her pencil is attached to notebook paper and taking down information, so that's close enough.

As for Elena, she's sitting ramrod straight in her chair, legs crossed over each other, trying to look anywhere but the intense blue of Damon Salvatore's eyes. Intense blue that keeps flicking back to her. Not long enough for anyone else to realize that it's happening, but Elena can feel his gaze all over her skin. Urban legend said that poetry could be erotic, but she never realized the truth of it until this moment. He pauses on particular phrases, words, and that's when he looks at her. It's not as though the content is particularly explicit; it doesn't have to be. When it's Damon Salvatore reading and analyzing it for AP English 12, it's fairly well the most arousing thing Elena's ever had to sit quietly through.

She shifts in her chair, trying to get some kind of relief against the smooth surface. It's almost painfully ineffective. There's no friction to be had, however much she might wish otherwise. She just ends up sliding forwards a little bit. Equally frustrating is the way Damon looks at her from under his lashes, almost like a girl might. He sees right through her. Or maybe he just sees her. She's not quite sure what the difference is, but when Damon looks at her he knows more than anyone else. Right now she's just positive he can see how frustrated and on edge she is. And he's not the least bit remorseful.

The next thirty minutes drag by. While everyone else is antsy for lunch, Elena could not care less. Lunch? What is lunch? She's not the least bit hungry. At least, the kind of hunger she's suffering from can't be solved with food. Or at school. Especially not with her teacher. Student teacher, technically. But Elena's fairly certain that the school administration wouldn't see it that way when it came to the whole "relationship" thing. She hasn't even dared to tell her friends, much as she wants to. This, they wouldn't get. Even Bonnie, who has a weird kind of pseudo-friendship with Damon, would advise her wholeheartedly against dating their English teacher. Because that is definitely not "okay". Whatever anyone else would say or think, Elena knows this is real. She didn't mean to fall for Damon, but she's not giving up on it because it's slightly illegal. Six months doesn't mean that much, in the grand scheme of things.

Finally, _finally_, the bell rings. Damon closes out his lecture with a smirk, directing the class to the board for the homework. Caroline all but leaps out of her seat, phone in her hand and texting furiously before the bell's even finished dismissing them. How she plans to gather up her things when she's texing that quickly, Elena doesn't know.

"I thought you trusted Tyler completely, Care," Bonnie quips.

The blonde rolls her eyes, but it's with a smile. "Of course I do." Her backpack, normally so organized, is going to be a mess when she gets home. "It's that slut hanging around him I don't trust."

Elena doesn't bother pointing out that if Caroline really trusted Tyler, it wouldn't matter how little she trusts Hayley – she'd just know that there was no way Tyler would cheat on her. It's one of Caroline's things. Putting up with "things" is just part of being a friend. Everyone has them, but if they spent all their time critiquing them they'd end up not liking each other very much anymore.

She'd probably win a record for how slowly she manages to put away her materials. Not that she was even using them. About halfway through Damon's lecture, everything but him was completely forgotten. Yet Elena manages to stretch getting all of her papers into her binder, organizing her notebooks, and putting her pencils away into enough time that Bonnie and Caroline are standing together by Caroline's desk, waiting for her even as she's just standing up.

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Elena lifts up the newest assignment sheet that she left on her desk. There's already a small queue of students who want to talk to Damon, various papers in their hands.

"Elena?" That's Caroline. She wouldn't leave, but it doesn't stop her being impatient. "Come on. Are you coming to lunch or not?"

"I'll catch up." Elena flashes them a reassuring smile (something she's gotten very good at since sophomore year. The death of one's parents teaches one a little something about lying). "I have to ask Mr. Salvatore about the presentation." She runs that name over and over in her head every time she has to say it. Mr. Salvatore. She absolutely cannot fuck that up.

"That's at least a month away, I think you've got some time," Bonnie laughs.

Elena just shrugs. _I'm an overachiever, what can I say_? But what she means is _our teacher's my boyfriend, sorry I haven't told you yet_.

"Alright." Caroline's chomping at the bit to go. "You'll meet us at lunch, right?"

"Of course. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes." Maybe. Damon can be a little too "I have to do the right thing" about boundaries at school, but he's also the one who was all but seducing her in the middle of a classroom. As far as Elena's concerned, her being worked up is completely his fault.

She leans casually against a desk in the front row, pretending to read over her paper for the thirteenth time but actually utterly distracted by how close Damon is. It doesn't bother her, the way the girl talking to him is looking at him. Maybe it should. But she knows he's only looking at her. Even as he's explaining the reasoning behind his comments on their most recent paper, she can still feel his eyes flick over to her. Over and over. This whole thing is his own damn fault, though. If she wasn't so frustrated she might explode, she'd drag it out more.

Finally, after directly lying to someone about which of them was there first and explaining to another student that her question is pretty long so it might take a while, Damon finishes with the last of the actual educational queries. Elena pushes back on the desk, standing and stalking just a few steps closer to him. "Mr. Salvatore."

"Elena." The way he says her name makes her melt. No one else says it like that, caressing the syllables with something between worship and dark promise. She doesn't think anyone else could, nor would she want them to. It sends a shot of heat straight to her core, the kind of heat she absolutely doesn't need any more of right now.

"I was just…" The door closes. She drops her paper and pushes Damon back so that his ass hits his desk, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. He responds immediately, hands coming up to cradle the back of her head and pull her closer. Heat blooms everywhere her body's pressed against his, lighting up her breasts, her arms, her stomach and legs, arcing to pulse at her center. "Fuck."

Damon laughs, pulling away to look down at her but still keeping her (risky as it is) in his arms. She gets the sense that maybe he wants her too. "Hi."

"_You_ are nothing like innocent in this," she reprimands. "What do you think you were doing?"

"Teaching."

He does this sometimes. Plays with her, plays with them, plays. He's light, charming, and she knows when he's serious that the situation is too. This isn't one of those times. It might be entertaining if he hadn't gotten her so worked up. Elena growls softly. "That was _not_ teaching."

"Are you telling me you weren't paying attention? I'm hurt." The effect of his mockery is somewhat ruined by him tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, hand running down the curve of her spine. She shudders, pressing closer to him.

"I was paying…" Elena leans forward, pressing a kiss to Damon's jaw, just below his earlobe. "_rapt_," another kiss, slightly lower, "attention." She kisses him again, scraping at his neck with her teeth before soothing the skin with swirls of her tongue.

When she leans back again, Damon's eyes are dark and predatory. She's not the least bit ashamed. He spent the entire class period stoking her desire, turning it into a slow burning fire with just enough heat to make it impossible to concentrate. Elena likes when he looks at her like that. Like he wants to throw her across the nearest flat surface and devour her whole. Envelop her in himself and take her until the only name she can remember is his. Slowly, she rolls her hips forward. The sliver of relief helps, but can't quell the desire surging in her, especially when she realizes he's half-hard just from this.

"Elena…" This time her name is a groan, a plea.

"Damon." An inch from his lips, her eyes locked on his.

"We're at school."

Well, obviously. If they hadn't been, she already would have done things that would get her expelled and him arrested if anyone walked in. Elena thinks she's showing remarkable self-restraint by not just jumping Damon right now. Though there's something sweet about his hesitation. It's not just self-preservation. Of course he knows how much trouble he would get in if anyone found out that they're together, but it's more than that. He respects her too much to be selfish with her.

In answer, she reaches beneath her own dress, swiping her fingers along her slit and lifting them up for Damon to see the glistening of her wetness on them. "Yeah," she smiles at him, head tilted to the side. "I know."

"Don't tease."

Elena just shakes her head (really? He's telling _her_ not to be a tease?), barely formed laugh cut off when Damon catches her wrist and raises her hand to his mouth. Lazily, as though he has all the time in the world, his tongue darts out from between his lips and curls around her fingers, drawing them into his mouth. He sucks possessively, unforgivingly. Damon fucks Elena's fingers with his mouth, and somehow it's ten times stronger when he sucks her essence from her own hands. Elena's knees feel shaky and her clit throbs from lack of touch. Her body aches for Damon, a primal mixing of lust and love that leaves her needing to all but crawl into his skin. "Damon…" His name leaves her mouth on a whimper, and he spins her so that she's the one pressed into the desk.

He drops his head, nipping along the join of her neck and her shoulder. Elena sighs and lets her head loll back, giving him greater access to her. "You're going to kill me," he tells her, but he's worshipping her skin the way only he can and fireworks ignite behind her eyes every time he bites down. In response, Elena palms him through his jeans, her pussy clenching in answer when his cock twitches beneath her touch.

Her lips find his again, and he tangles his fingers in her hair, tipping her head back as she slides her hands up his chest. She wishes he would bend her over, take her against the desk, make her as much his as if he'd branded her, but at the same time where they are is perfect. She can feel it in every part of her body, the pops of desire exploding in her skin. Damon swipes his thumb over her nipple, and even though her shirt and bra, electricity sparks out from the point of contact, her body involuntarily jerking with desire.

Elena reaches down, pressing her palm between her legs and rocking her hips against it through her dress. The pressure on her already sensitive clit makes her whine with need, but before she can make any headway with the action, Damon pulls her hand away, pressing it possessively into the desk behind them. Elena hisses, displeasure and arousal warring. As much as she likes being in control, she likes when Damon takes it quite as well.

He nudges her up with a thigh between her legs, contact that makes her shift in search of more, but Damon gives her nothing until she sits on his desk, legs spread and breathless with want. Someone could walk in any second and she finds it far beyond herself to care. Elena's body curves toward his as he runs his fingers from her shoulders to her ass, arching into him like a cat.

Damon thrusts into her and it's not enough and too much because she's so ready so it doesn't matter that they're both still fully clothed because the pressure of his cock in his jeans has to be unbearable and the seam presses into her clit in a way that makes her gasp. "Oh, god, Damon." Elena rolls her hips in return and is rewarded with his moan and a stab of her own pleasure. It's quick and it's dirty, the way he's rocking into her on his desk. His hands are on her breasts, rolling her nipples through her shirt and there aren't enough ways that he can touch her at one time. Elena's nails dig into his scalp. It's an imperfect rhythm they have going, but the friction is unbearably good, and her brain's beginning to fog.

So close to the edge she's shuddering, Elena whines, clinging onto Damon as if her life depends on it. "Damon, please. Please." He thrusts his hips more insistently and she's shattering into a million pieces, the pleasure of it overwhelming. Damon kisses her, hard, to swallow her cries and manages to intensify the deliciousness of the sensation when he swipes his tongue across the roof of her mouth. Elena bucks her hips, drawing out her orgasm as she feels Damon's hold on her tighten, pressing against her in his own release.

She comes back to earth limp and satiated, draped catlike around Damon's shoulders and more than willing to skip the rest of her classes for the day. Yes, it's good to get an education, but she'd rather curl up with Damon and bask in the glow. She's sitting on top of his desk, though, and it's suddenly relevant that there are students outside and Caroline and Bonnie are probably wondering where she is and what if his next class is freshmen and they come in early like the overachievers they are.

"Well, that was…" Damon raises his eyebrows, pressing a kiss to Elena's forehead as he moves away from her.

"Mhm." She smiles up at him, then frowns as her boyfriend kneels in front of her. "Damon, what are you…?" Elena trails off as he lifts the skirt of her dress. She's still completely confused, but decides not to fight it as he presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh. A sleepy moan slips from her mouth when Damon runs his tongue along her pussy, gently laving it. The action doesn't stir desire so much as echo it, satisfying in a way that makes her hum.

When he stands again, he presses a light kiss to her lips, flipping down her skirt again and helping her off the desk like nothing had happened. "What was that about?"

He smirks. "You have a class next. Couldn't have you leaving a wet spot."

Even as Elena looks away in mock outrage, the smile on her face is still soft. "Your classroom is going to smell like sex, and…" She catches sight of the wet spot on the front of his jeans, visible even against the dark fabric. "Ah… damn."

"I'll light a candle," Damon reassures her. "Don't worry about it, Elena, I can take care of it." He strokes her hair affectionately. "You need to worry about getting to lunch and telling Caroline and Bonnie exactly what you needed to ask about this assignment that took so long."

She moves towards her bag, legs slightly wobbly but not enough to stop her. Almost nothing could, when she's dead set on something. That's just how she is. She collects her things, but turns back at the door, leaning against it like they're any other student and teacher, save maybe for the way her eyes caress every inch of him before coming to rest on his own, expression shining with contentment. "Hey, Damon?"

"Elena?" He's lighting the candle-that-isn't-allowed-in-a-classroom with the lighter-that-isn't-allowed-in-a-classroom and the way he says her name still makes her toes curl.

"I'll see you after school?"

"Of course."

She nods and disappears around the door. To go sit with her friends at lunch and complain about Calculus homework. School as usual. Well… sort of.


End file.
